#untitled song

[kagamine-rin]

[loofol]

“Our album [Sigh No More] comes out next week.”

A few minutes later…

*Play an untitled song aka “Nothing Is Written” aka early “I Will Wait”.*

February 2010, people 👏🤯

Seriously, this whole video is great. The performance is great as always, Marcus banter, first question of the Q&A “Play another one!”, “Do you want to play to 20,000 people?” - “60 seems like a lot right now.” And so much more! So glad I found this video!

[jolikmc-stuff]

Zeux IV: Forest of Ruin - "Whoa…" (FR_WHOA.MOD Arrangements) by Jo Li KMC on YouTube

I probably already posted this as a SoundCloud link, but here's a "video" version with an extra arrangement.

[mod-a-day]

Alexis Janson (tromdage), Aleksi Eeben (Heatbeat) of Carillon "Untitled Song" (𝙲𝚅_𝙼𝙰𝙶𝙸𝙲.𝙼𝙾𝙳) (Easy Listening Remix) Zeux II: Caverns of Zeux (1994, ????) Software Visions

[jolikmc-thoughts]

Ugh.  Any time I start to type “untitled”, I instinctively finish it with “song”.

Thanks, Alexis Janson, founder of Software Visions, creator of MegaZeux, and notorious “Untitled song” maker.

And also random winner of the Magic the Gathering “Great Designer Search”.

[astrangetorpedo]

LUCY DACUS debuts new song at brooklyn steel 10/8/24

clasping your necklace / zipping your dress / hands on your waist / kissing your neck / i love your body / i love your mind / they will change / so will mine

but you are my best guess at the future / you are my best guess / if i were a gambling man / i am / you’d be my best bet

tracing your tan lines / making you mine / if this doesn’t work / i’ll lose my mind / and after a while / i will be fine / but i don’t wanna be fine / i want you, you

you are my best guess at the future / you are my best guess / if i were a gambling man / i am / you’d be my best bet / here is the church / here is the steeple / you were looking for saints / but you only found people / ‘aint that just the way it goes / i watched you fall from grace / you were graceful

after all / it’s a small world / you may not be an angel / but you are my girl / you are my pack a day / you are my favorite place / you were my best friend before

you were my best guess at the future / you are my best guess / if i were a gambling man / i am / you’d be my best bet / you are my best guess at the future / you are my best guess / if i were a gambling man / i am / you’d be my best bet

[cryscendo]

the ABCs of KEH: F IS FOR… FASHION

Every moment in your life is an opportunity for fashion. (insp)

[rip-headphones-users]

FLASH WARNING

“Kasper’s Mistakes”

I posted a WIP of this some time ago, anyway, here. I finally finished it. Eat up Infected fans.

Fun fact I was looking for the song this audio is from for like 4/5 years because it was taken down off streaming services, and SEVERAL of the tracks are untitled so it was impossible for me to find it. Then like 4 months before I finally found it again, somebody randomly reuploaded the collection its from but in a format that’s actually searchable.

So for those who enjoy Noise/Punk/Grindcore:

The Fruit Will Rot, Volume 3 - Disc E: “Untitled 06” by Realicide

[project-sekai-facts]

Was there ever a stated reason that alt vocals by non virtual singer characters for commission songs that aren't their own died out by most units' 5th singles (rui's filament fever alt vocal is an anomaly) or is it just implicitly because they don't feel like making a bunch of alt vocals anymore

Honestly I have no clue. Maybe they just decided only the focus character should do it. Or they did say occasionally they have to rerecord some vocals for the alts, so maybe they decided it was too much studio time (not like they can't afford it).

For the record, every singer sings the entirety of every comm for their unit (with some exceptions due to vocal range), and the vocals are then mixed to make what you hear in game. Alts do exist for every character for every comm, they just aren't released. We KNOW CRaZY alts for all 4 members exist, Umetora tweeted that he made them and emailed them to the seiyuu and I think Fumiyan mentioned it on stream too. They're not staff-made so they can't use them but surely it wouldn't be hard for them to just do the exact same thing.

[targarrus]

још само један трен

[starrysharks]

inspiration for freaks (freakspiration)

[to-skit-or-not-to-skit]

and maybe my god has a trot in her walk

[formosusiniquis]

the bells, the joy (together in darkness)

Robin Buckley & Steve Harringto WC: 11963 | T | Tags/Themes: hivemind, Post S3, Scoops Troop Friendship, Nonbinary Steve and Robin, Blink and you miss it Steddie and Buckingham pre-slash AKA It's the Stobin Hivemind fic y'all! thank you very very very much to @spectrum-spectre for beta-ing this for me!!

Steve has never done LSD before. Which is the kind of statement his father would call ‘qualifying’ and ‘implies other kinds of wrongdoing, Stephan.’ Like the time he’d said he hadn’t smoked anything other than cigarettes that weekend. Apparently the ‘that weekend’ was a qualifier that got his very small pot stash flushed, and forced him into a second transaction with Eddie Munson in as many weeks.

Yeah okay maybe there were worse things, as far as punishments go.

Qualifying or not though, Steve has never done LSD. Not after the weekend he spent reading the supposedly true diary of a supposedly real teen that had been left on his bed. Like mother, like son, his father had sneered when he'd caught Steve curled up with it, like the whole plan to keep him from becoming pot-addled and destined for the gutter, or whatever, hadn’t relied on his gossipy nature.

It was mostly stupid, the book, but Steve figured it didn’t hurt to stick to weed. The stuff about that he knew for sure was totally fake.

Except now, he wishes he maybe knew a little bit more about what LSD was supposed to feel like. So he knows how to portion out blame for his current state. It’s currently 50% Upside-Down-Shit and 40% Russian-LSD-Shit and 10% Concussion-Shit, but if he’s being fair he’s blamed the Upside Down for about half of everything that’s gone wrong in his life since 1983. He’s willing to acknowledge that maybe the blame breakdown should be readjusted for this one.

“Hey Robin?” Trauma changes people, makes you want to stay close to the people who are changed the same way you are. Robin had shown up at Steve’s house the Monday after everything, trumpet case and duffle bag in hand. Apparently, she had walked from the school where she was supposed to be catching the bus to Band Camp, like she does every year. Apparently, when you undergo traumas heretofore unexperienced by any teen ever, Russian torture and flesh monsters, it’s okay to skip Summer Intensive to move in with your new best friend without telling your parents. Apparently, if you’re the kid that the Band Person, Director, wants to keep happy because in addition to the billion and seven languages you can play any instrument with a mouthpiece -- except trombone, slide positions, Steve had pretended he knew what that meant -- then you can just leave school to deal with your ‘mall fire smoke inhalation’ at your ‘aunt’s house’ instead. Apparently this is fine and Steve doesn’t need to worry about any angry former hippies beating down his dore because ‘what they don’t know won’t hurt them.’

So he can call out for Robin, without raising his voice because he knows she’s there. Somewhere in the house, the weight of it changed now that someone else is in it with him. He can call out even though he’s pretty sure she’s holed up in his Mom’s library on the ground floor, because he can feel her in the back of his brain and he knows she’ll hear him.

Drifting in an unfocused middle distance, he can imagine Robin. Curled up, she knows she’s been called for but isn’t in any hurry to comply, Steve will wait. He's fine with waiting, at least for the five minutes it will take for her to finish her chapter. He can see her, slotting her bookmark in place and sitting up straight for the first time in hours. She stretches, uncurls from the window seat that Steve also favors, gently sets the book down before letting a foot dangle and brush the floor to actually stand. And she leaves the library. She starts to feel closer, her presence looming stronger in his brain and Steve aware of himself in his own body. Then he hears her feet on the stairs.

“What is it, Dingus, did you know your Mom has a whole collection of French books? I’m in the middle of a bunch of lesbian short stories.”

“Yeah, she speaks it, not sure why.” He answers absently, “Have you ever done LSD?”

“I’ve had half a pot brownie and gotten way too high before.”

That’s not really the same thing, Steve thinks.

“I know it’s not really the same thing, Dingus, I was using it as a framework.” She flops facedown on the bed beside him, wiggling into what he’s started thinking of as her side. A lucky coincidence that she prefers to be tucked in on the side closest to the wall. Probably because she’s never seen anything burst out of one.

“Okay don’t think that, cause now I’m never going to be able to sleep again, I don’t think you’ve got enough space for us to pull your bed into the center of your room.”

He can see the way she imagines it. His bed, an island in the center of the room floating in a sea of plaid. Something about it is even more unnerving than if it stayed up against the wall.

“Not a good look.” He doubts anything will come from the walls again anyway, the Upside Down has proven to be surprisingly adaptive; it doesn't seem to attack in the same way twice. It makes it harder to be prepared, but he’s less worried about not being able to protect Robin in the middle of the night.

“Savior complex. Your mom has psychology books down there too. What does she even do?”

“Reads mostly. Do you think there’s anything down there about LSD?” He doesn’t think this is normal.

“Nice leap, Steve, I don’t think there are many drugs that link your brain with your coworker.” She says coworker, but he feels friend. Even that concept isn’t enough to describe the depth of warmth and affection that he feels wash over him as she thinks.

He lets the silence hang for a second, thinking but not sure what yet. His thoughts are slower to arrive and more jumbled in these early days post-concussion. His right hand curls, his fingers flex. First and third finger tap, then one and two, then none, one and two, and two, and none.

Robin’s knee jostles the bed as her leg bounces just a little.

“I think something else happened to us.”

“Wondered how long I’d have to tap your fingers for you before you got there with me.”

Read the rest on AO3

[namedvesta]

— ZNTNDR, Untitled Us.

[mod-a-day]

Alexis Janson (tromdage) "Untitled Song" (𝙵𝚁_𝚃𝙾𝚆𝙴𝚁.𝙼𝙾𝙳) Zeux IV: Forest of Ruin (1994) Software Visions

[mingsolo]

UNTITLED 05.

mingi x reader (f) / smut, pwp / wc: 386 / warnings: there's a choke kink / r: 18+

You couldn't hear Mingi clearly over the heavy breathing.

You parted from his lips when you found yourself holding his neck rather tightly, unwrapping your hands from him thinking he would not enjoy that, not even realizing you did until this very moment.

“Please, keep them"

Mingi held your hands in position. His voice was just barely louder now, but at least you could hear him clearly.

Your eyes shone, locking them into his. His parted lips, pink cheeks, lazy gaze on your lips. His hair is a mess. Adorable and so inviting. You adjusted yourself on his lap, wrecking his hair before slowly going down to his neck again.

You kissed him ravenously. Both so hot it could pass for a fever.

“Tighter.” He groaned, and you could feel yourself dampening.

You did as told, rubbing yourself against the thick fabric of his jeans, feeling the even thicker shape of his cock. So ready for you. Mingi begins unzipping his pants and moving your underwear aside.

“Now” you moan and he knows exactly what to do.

You press even more as his cocks enters you and Mingi cries out, sounds coming out in little exhales from under your hands wrapped around his neck. The timbre of his voice vibrating against your palms. You moan too, rocking your hips back and forth as if this was your last time with him.

“You are doing so well…”

And so you came under his praise.

And while doing so, you tighten your grip and Mingi’s breath shortens. You go down to kiss his cheek, his jaw and paying attention to the little cries and whimpers over his rough breathing. “Fuck!” He barely makes out the words, keeping you in place as he comes. So tight as if this were the last time with you.

[✸]